


I Need Some Help at Register Three

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Cursing Toddlers, Eating Costco Samples, Embarrassing Spousal Behavior, Established Relationship, M/M, No Toy Dinosaurs Were Harmed in the Writing of This Story, Parental Bribes, Sam Wilson is Done with Your Shit, Sam and Steve Go to Costco, domestic AU, impulse shopping, married au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: Working retail sure ain’t a picnic, especially not at big box stores.Every now and again, though, a cute kid at the register can break the monotony. Sam and Steve never planned to entertain so many shoppers with so little effort…





	I Need Some Help at Register Three

**Author's Note:**

> I-will-not-be-caged suggested this based on a funny post we saw today on Tumblr. I’m throwing my hat into the ring, because that prompt was too good to pass up.

Clint wandered into the tiny, dusty break room and poured his third styrofoam cup of the weak, “San Francisco’s Best” coffee, giving the leg of Natasha’s chair a light kick as he passed. “Hey, lazy butt.”

“Hey, fart face.”

Clint snickered, nearly horking coffee up through his nostrils. He recovered while leaning his hip against the counter. “You done changing out the sodas?”

“I just loaded them twenty minutes ago. I’m doing the juice samples, now.”

“Somebody’s hoity-toity today.”

“Kneel to me, peasant.”

“How could I not, when you’re looking so regal this fine afternoon, Your Highness-”

“Majesty,” she corrected him. “You call the Queen ‘Your Majesty.’”

Clint looked taken aback. He immediately set the coffee on the counter, hurried to kneel before her, and did little “I’m not worthy” bows, earning himself a lift of her brow.

“That will do.”

“Your radiance blinds me…”

“Okay, now. That’s enough. You’re just embarrassing yourself, now.”

Clint hopped back up and went back to his coffee. Nat thumbed through an issue of _Teen Vogue_ and nibbled on a snack-sized back of salted almonds.

“Pull up a chair, Barton. Whole point of a break is getting off of your feet for ten minutes.”

“If I sit down, I won’t get back up.”

“Don’t make me get a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

“It’s okay to admit that you look up to me.”

Nat rolled her eyes and threw an almond at him; he snickered and picked it up off the counter when it missed him and ate it.

To Natasha’s credit, she made the white butcher’s coat, hair net and baseball cap with its company logo work. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Teaching my kickboxing class. Then, I’m just gonna go home and spite-watch the last season of _Walking Dead_. I’ve fallen so far behind.”

Clint hummed in agreement around his coffee cup as he downed the rest. He poured another as he asked her, “Wanna hear something funny?”

“What?”

“There was this couple at the register before I came back here… aw, man… Nat, it was one of those moments where I’m glad I don’t have kids, but karma’s gonna get me one day for laughing at these guys.”

That earned him a smirk, and that little gleam of mischief in Nat’s green eyes that he pretty much lived for. “Uh-oh.”

“Oh, yeah. It was great.”

*

 

_Ten minutes ago_ :

Sam dug in his wallet and dug through the thick stack of store discount and coupon cards, finally fishing out his Costco card and waving it at the bored clerk in the doorway. Guy waved him and Steve in while Steve pushed the cart that rattled loudly enough to announce their arrival to everyone in the electronics aisle.

“You had to get the cart with the janky wheel?”

“It’s not even that bad. It still steers.”

“I don’t know you, if anyone stares over here and wonders why you’re making all that racket.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll embarrass you?” Steve pantomimed picking his nose, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue at his husband. Sam gave him the side-eye, letting it lapse when their son, Cooper, giggled at him and started making his own monster faces back at Sam, too.

“Don’t… just don’t encourage the boy. What’s wrong with you? Honestly!”

Cooper giggled and started pinching his own cheeks, pulling them down to show the underside of his lids. 

“Okay, okay, stop that, that’s nasty,” Sam warned as he tugged his little hands down and poked Cooper under the armpit. Cooper belly-laughed as Steve continued to push the cart, grinning down at their son like a big dope. “I can’t take you two anywhere.”

“What? We’re behaving ourselves!” Steve claimed. “We’re good boys, right, Coop?”

“Uh-huh,” Cooper agreed. Steve leaned in and blew a raspberry against his plump cheek. “We’re good boys, Daddy.”

“Riiiiiight.” They made their way toward the men and boy’s clothing and Sam perused the rack of toddler-sized flannel shirts and khaki pant outfits on sale. Cooper challenged his own claim by bouncing up and down in his seat, kicking his feet, until Steve reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a pouch of fruit snacks and dropped a couple of them into Cooper’s hand. 

They never simply “went to the store” anymore after they brought Cooper home. What used to be a quick jaunt out the door became an _excursion_. Bottles of formula. Diapers. Wipes. Spare outfit. Spare socks. Plastic baggies to throw the diapers out. Sun shade for the rear window to keep the glare out of their son’s eyes. Britax Roundabout car seat with ten thousand clips and buckles. Enormous diaper bag that, even offered in “sporty, masculine” styles, still looked like an enormous diaper bag.

Cooper had reached the size where they could sit him comfortably in the cart, but they still kept shopping trips short. Steve still resorted to tiny bribes; Sam knew Cooper’s reward for skipping his Costco tantrum might include an “accidental” trip through the toy aisle to let Cooper bounce on one of the giant teddy bears.

Sam handed over a couple of selections for Steve to hold up against Cooper to check the fit. “Geez,” Steve murmured. “You’ve grown again, buddy. The 2T’s gonna be too small.”

“Says my husband after my sister just sent us all those size 2T clothes.”

“They were hand-me-downs. We can hand them down again. I keep telling you, buddy, that if we keep feeding him, he keeps growing?”

They tossed two of the outfits in a 3T into the cart. They stopped in the men’s aisle next for underwear and socks.

“Maybe now, you can quit stealing mine,” Steve suggested.

“Who’s steals _whose_?” Sam flashed Steve some more side-eye, folding his arms.

Steve raised his brows innocently. “Hey. Those AND1 boxer briefs look better on my butt than yours.”

“They do _not_.”

“Boy, you’d better keep your thievin’ hands off my drawers!”

“You like it when I get my hands _into_ your drawers…”

“I don’t know you.” Sam walked away, but he was biting his lip. 

 

They stopped in the frozen foods and practically made a meal out of all the samples of the day. A cute woman who looked like she had red hair tucked up under her cap and hair net flirted with Cooper as she handed him one of the little cups of Kirkland’s juice.

“Great two-for-one deal on these today,” she told them. “It’s good, huh, big guy?” Cooper nodded and gave her a loud “MM-HM!” that made her laugh, scrunching up her nose. Steve, in typical fashion, automatically threw two bottles of the juice into the cart.

“You’re too easy,” Sam informed him.

“What? It’s good juice!”

Sam’s concession to the impulse shopping happened when he tasted one of the cocktail meatballs and snuck a second one while the server wasn’t looking, before he headed to the freezer to get a box. Steve gave him a triumphant grin.

“You’re a bad influence,” Sam told him.

“Terrible,” Steve agreed.

They made their way through the store, clicking along with their janky-wheeled cart as Cooper began to cut up, tired of riding in the cart. Sam and Steve hurried to get the essentials, like garbage bags, detergent and dog food before they outlasted their son’s patience.

“Want to get down, buddy?”

“He’s fine,” Sam told Steve. “Don’t let him run off right when we’re about to go.”

They passed a couple of clerks in their red vests and badges, hurrying to re-fold an entire table full of shirts and sweaters ransacked by the morning crowd. “Fuck!” one of them blurted out. “Sick of this shit!”

“Language,” Steve hissed as they passed. The young man had the decency to look sheepish.

“That was a bad word, by the way,” Sam mentioned to Cooper.

“Uh-huh,” Cooper agreed.

“We don’t say that word, do we?”

“Uh-uh.”

“No, we don’t.”

“It’s bad.”

“Yup.”

Steve growled under his breath when they saw the lines at the checkout. Every line was packed, and every other shopper had a pallet of goods. Cases of sodas and beers, mountains of dog food and fertilizer and grass seed. They’d be there forever.

Cooper picked that time to get antsy.

“Want doooowwwwwwnn! Wanna get dow-ow-ownnnnn!” He bounced and kicked, and Steve caught his foot to keep him from kicking _him_. Cooper gave him a petulant look. Steve leaned in close and murmured a low volume.

“Coop? Do we want a time-out when we get home?”

Cooper scowled and folded his arms, eyebrows turning into sandy check marks. “ _Mmmnnhh!_

“Coop,” Steve reminded him gently. “You’ll be fine. Do you need to go potty?”

“Uh-uh.”

“You sure?”

Cooper gave him an angry nod. Sam smiled at the woman in the line next to them who gave them a sympathetic, knowing look. 

“Mine are grown,” she told Sam smugly.

“Oh, you’re living the life.”

“You know it, buddy. But it was worth every minute.”

“Want my dinosaurs,” Cooper informed Steve.

“Did you bring your dinosaurs?”

“He did,” Sam assured him as he started fishing in his wallet again for the Costco card and his ATM. “In the bag.”

Steve dug around in the diaper bag, past the spare toddler underpants, and he held up the two plastic dinosaur figures in triumph. Cooper made grabby hands for them. “Can we say thank you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to _tell_ Daddy thank you, Cooper, not just tell him you know how.” Sam was a strong believer in teachable moments. And semantics.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, Cooper.”

A medium-height, sandy blond at the register looked bored as he scanned the goods, struggling mightily with the big, plastic-wrapped cardboard tray of canned corn. Sam noticed the back support belt he wore under his red vest and pitied him immediately. Cooper marched his dinosaurs across the rail of the cart, growling and making the duke it out.

“Did you remember fabric softener?” That was Steve, beginning his usual fretting fit without which no Costco trip would be complete. “I don’t think it was on the list.”

“We got it.”

“You’re sure.”

Sam held up the box of Bounce sheets with a deadpan expression. “We’ve. Got. It.”

“Do you want to go back and get those sausages?”

“I didn’t think they were that great of a deal.”

“I know, but they were good!”

“Good. But not cheap.”

“Aw, Sam! Sausage!”

“We’ve got food at home.”

Cooper continued to make growling noises, accompanied by stomping sounds, whispering incomprehensibly as he played.

“What was that, buddy?” Steve wondered.

Cooper just kept playing, and Steve and Sam went back to reviewing their cart. The line finally moved up by one cart, and the afternoon continued to drag on.

“Daddy, I’m hungry, now!”

“Coop, here. This is the last one, okay?” Steve fished the last fruit snack out of the pouch and handed it over, before crumpling the pouch and tossing into the diaper bag for later. Excavating it after a long day out was a chore in itself. Steve knew he’d find all kinds of missing odds and ends, like all of Cooper’s unpaired socks and Cheerios from as far back as the Clinton administration.

Cooper had moved on from marching the figures around on the rail to flying them through the air, rambling a tide of kids’ show quotes and random words whose meanings Sam and Steve could only guess. They listened to Cooper with half an ear as they contemplated their order.

“I still need to pick up something for the work potluck.”

“Steve. We were just in the bakery aisle.”

“I know, but I don’t want to bring cake.”

“Cake’s easy.”

“I know. But… it’s _cake_.”

Cooped banged the figures together, and he was still babbling away at random, but Steve paused for a second.

“What was that buddy?”

“Nothing, Daddy.”

“Okay.” Sam’s brows drew together.

“Coop… what did you just say?”

Cooper went back to playing with his dinosaurs. Steve went back to his discourse on acceptable potluck offerings.

“I was almost thinking I could bring a dip. People will eat dip. I won’t have to worry about a lot of it being left and having to bring it home.”

“You’re missing the point of dip, then. Bring it home. _We_ get to eat it if you bring it home.”

The woman in front of them finally managed to find her ATM card after digging in her purse for five minutes. Steve’s feet were beginning to hurt, and Sam was ready to gnaw his arm off if he couldn’t get a Costco hot dog in his mouth soon.

Cooper resorted to whispering at his figures, and Sam still thought he caught something sketchy in the conversation.

“What was that, lil’ man?”

“The itsy bitsy spiderrrr… went up the water SPOUT…”

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out,” Steve sang back. He was game to sound like a goof if it kept his son mellow.

“Oh, there’s an oldie but goodie,” the cashier told them. He was just finishing the woman’s checkout, and Sam already had his Costco card ready to go.

“Gotta love the classics,” Sam agreed.

Steve and Cooper wound up the song, and Sam and Steve began unloading the cart onto the belt. “Find everything okay?” the cashier asked them.

“What _didn’t_ we find?” Steve countered. The guy nodded like he’d heard that one before and started scanning their items. Steve reached around Cooper and handed Sam the dryer sheets. 

“Hey, don’t forget these.” He reached for the pack of socks, and Cooper picked that moment to sail his dinosaur around through the air, making whooshing noises, just as his dad turned around to grab the juice. “GAH! COOPER!” Cooper managed to peg Steve in the nose with the dinosaur and accidentally dropped it.

“FUCK!”

“Oh, shi-” Sam stopped himself, clapping his hand over his mouth.

“Ssssshhhhh… ow…” Steve was wincing, looking horrified and holding his nose. The woman at the other end of the register paused in loading her items back onto her pallet to take outside, and her shoulders shook. “Coop… that’s not nice. We don’t say that…”

The cashier bit his lip but continued to scan their items, taking the socks from Sam. Steve, in the meantime, flushed beet red smiled helplessly at all of the shoppers who heard his son turn the air blue.

*

 

Nat’s shoulders shook. “Oh, wow. That’s great.”

“Ain’t it? Kid just yelled it clear as a bell.” Clint stole another one of her almonds. “Best part of my day so far. No matter how shitty the rest of my day was, I didn’t get pegged in the nose with a dinosaur. It’s the little things, Nat.”


End file.
